A foolish heart knows no bounds,
falling over and over
like a gentle whimper of a child
but yet,
still looking up with a vulnerable hope
a yearning questioning
for the affection
of the averted gaze.

A foolish heart sees no truth,
staggering in a room full of thorns
only to proclaim
that the spaces between
are whispers
silent expressions of
a secret love
that they wish to see.

A foolish heart hears no rejection,
for its all a projection
of a nightmarish confusion
while the truth
no matter how sought for
suffocates
at the seam,
and the foolish heart continues
on with its caramel dream.

A foolish heart does not fear pain,
for that is where it sleeps.
No, a foolish heart,
fears the end,
it fears the death
of its very own breath.
Where the illusion is broken,
and all that remains
Is a plain human being.
A foolish heart wants to stay foolish
for it’s the most alive its ever been.